Saturday
Friday
my cousin ward
The kids and I have been thinking and talking a lot lately about our baby cousin, Ward. He died last summer in an accident at the lake and really, his loss is the worst thing that's ever happened to our entire extended family. We all miss his a lot. Now that the weather is getting warmer, it reminds me that soon it will have been a year since I saw him last. He was the loveliest baby I've ever seen. Truly. He was just physically stunning. And he was so funny and clever and sweet.
less breastmilk = more alcohol?
Here's an interesting new study that LINKS LACK OF BREASTFEEDING with a predisposition to alcoholism later in life
okay, how about...
It seems I was the only person who liked the VERY pink blog design. So how's about this one? Easier on the eyes? Links okay to read?
Thursday
new blog design
I like pink. It's my favorite color. I'm that kind of grrl.
Do you like the new blog look?
Do you like the new blog look?
i like
On Turning Ten
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.
This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
-- Billy Collins
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.
This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
-- Billy Collins
new dixie chicks video
In their new video for "Not Ready to Make Nice," just released, the Chicks (whom I love) AREN'T PULLING ANY PUNCHES in their stance on the war in Iraq.
suri cruise
Let me go on the record as saying I actually sort of like the name "Suri." It's unusual and pretty, but not ridiculous (as in "Apple Martin").
I lean toward traditional names (my daughter is named "Jane," after all), but Suri is nice.
I lean toward traditional names (my daughter is named "Jane," after all), but Suri is nice.
Wednesday
online stuff
I spoke as part of a panel on online news at UT's Journalism Department today. Comments were summarized RIGHT HERE
Tuesday
john wayne and my grandmother
Check out this cool interview with the woman who was my grandmother's editorial assistant for years. My grandmother is Nancy Anderson, the editor referenced in the piece.
one year off
Someone asked me this week what I would do with a year's paid vacation. This was my answer:
If I could do anything for a year, I'd write several books I have had on hiatus for 2 years - probably by going to a writers' retreat (I was accepted to Bread Loaf year before last but couldn't manage the logistics) spend lots of time lying in a hammock with my children, ride (horse) every single day, get a lot of massages & pedicures, drink a lot of beer, visit friends and family with no plan or agenda, work for a candidate of my choice (since my current employment prohibits my active involvement in specific political campaigns) and read, read, read...and knit a lot. And work in my garden.
What would you do? Comment below.
If I could do anything for a year, I'd write several books I have had on hiatus for 2 years - probably by going to a writers' retreat (I was accepted to Bread Loaf year before last but couldn't manage the logistics) spend lots of time lying in a hammock with my children, ride (horse) every single day, get a lot of massages & pedicures, drink a lot of beer, visit friends and family with no plan or agenda, work for a candidate of my choice (since my current employment prohibits my active involvement in specific political campaigns) and read, read, read...and knit a lot. And work in my garden.
What would you do? Comment below.
Monday
easter
This has to be the nicest weather for an Easter weekend that I remember, ever. It's been sunny and gorgeous all weekend. It's dusk and I'm sitting out on the porch, smelling the flowers in the hanging baskets and listening to our two budgies chirp, since I moved their cage out onto the porch. Oh yes, also listening to Matthew Sweet and the sounds of Henry playing on the trampoline with his 3 year old cousin, McLean.
It's been a nice weekend
On Friday night, J. and I went to see McLean's first t-ball game. It was very cute. He's only 3 and all the other kids are 4-7 years old. After, J. and I took Elliot and cousin Eleanor downtown for the family-friendly first portion of the CD release party for some friends' (really awesome) band. We had a nice time, but it's always bizarro to run into my the guy I was seeing all Fall, because he now refuses to even look at me. If we are in the same room, he pretends he doesn't see me. It's so weird it's funny. He's in this band, so he was there and he studiously avoided any eye contact.
Anyway, after, we took the children up to Market Square and they happily splashed in the fountains, getting completely soaked.
On Saturday I went to meet up with Jane at the horse show near Chattanooga. She did just fine, but didn't do well enough to win the division, which had been everyone's hope.
Saturday night we all went and ate and dyed eggs at my sister's house.
The bunny came and Easter morning was nice. The kids discovered that the plastic eggs full of candy that the bunny had hidden in the front garden had been infiltrated by ants, so they had eggs full o'ants.
We went to church, including J., who is very creeped out by the high church aspects of a festive Episcopal Easter service. The children went out to lunch with their grandparents after church and I went to lunch and met J's parents for the first time.
This afternoon we worked in the yard and I attempted to make a dent in the massive laundry pile that has overtaken my bedroom. Jane has gone to spend the night at cousin Eleanor's, whil McLean and Elliot's friend Liam are spending the night here. I have an all boy household tonight.
It's getting dark, but I'm loathe for the beautiful day to end. I wish I had thought to take tomorrow off since the kids are out of school. But tomorrow it's back to work for moi...
It's been a nice weekend
On Friday night, J. and I went to see McLean's first t-ball game. It was very cute. He's only 3 and all the other kids are 4-7 years old. After, J. and I took Elliot and cousin Eleanor downtown for the family-friendly first portion of the CD release party for some friends' (really awesome) band. We had a nice time, but it's always bizarro to run into my the guy I was seeing all Fall, because he now refuses to even look at me. If we are in the same room, he pretends he doesn't see me. It's so weird it's funny. He's in this band, so he was there and he studiously avoided any eye contact.
Anyway, after, we took the children up to Market Square and they happily splashed in the fountains, getting completely soaked.
On Saturday I went to meet up with Jane at the horse show near Chattanooga. She did just fine, but didn't do well enough to win the division, which had been everyone's hope.
Saturday night we all went and ate and dyed eggs at my sister's house.
The bunny came and Easter morning was nice. The kids discovered that the plastic eggs full of candy that the bunny had hidden in the front garden had been infiltrated by ants, so they had eggs full o'ants.
We went to church, including J., who is very creeped out by the high church aspects of a festive Episcopal Easter service. The children went out to lunch with their grandparents after church and I went to lunch and met J's parents for the first time.
This afternoon we worked in the yard and I attempted to make a dent in the massive laundry pile that has overtaken my bedroom. Jane has gone to spend the night at cousin Eleanor's, whil McLean and Elliot's friend Liam are spending the night here. I have an all boy household tonight.
It's getting dark, but I'm loathe for the beautiful day to end. I wish I had thought to take tomorrow off since the kids are out of school. But tomorrow it's back to work for moi...
meet the parents
So today I met J.'s parents and bro/sis in law for the first time. They had no idea he was seeing anyone, much less that this person is 12 years older than he is with 3 children, one of whom is about to start high school.
So we showed up for lunch and had a really pleasant time and they were just as nice as they could be, but I know they were probably scratching their heads after we left wondering A.) Who the heck I was and B.) Had they misunderstood when I told them I have 3 kids, ages 14, 10 and 8 years old ;-)
So we showed up for lunch and had a really pleasant time and they were just as nice as they could be, but I know they were probably scratching their heads after we left wondering A.) Who the heck I was and B.) Had they misunderstood when I told them I have 3 kids, ages 14, 10 and 8 years old ;-)
Friday
it's a rock off between kenny loggins and peter cetera
...or something like that.
You must, simply MUST watch these online episodes of Yacht Rock. You will laugh so hard, you will cry. I guarantee it. Trust me on this one.
You must, simply MUST watch these online episodes of Yacht Rock. You will laugh so hard, you will cry. I guarantee it. Trust me on this one.
bragging
Gotta brag on my 10 year old girlchild.
I just talked on the phone to Jane, who is at a horse show today.
She told me that after today's classes, she is leading the small pony division at this "A" show on Buddy, the pony in this picture. (This photo was taken of her showing him last Fall. Buddy doesn't belong to us, but she gets to show him some. We love him.)
Anyway, this is the best she's ever done at a horse show in a high level division. If she stays in the lead tomorrow, she will have qualified the pony for the USEF National Pony Finals, which is a very big deal.
It's hard being a catch rider (meaning that Jane rides whichever pony someone allows her to ride because we can't really afford our own pony), but Jane makes the most of it. She never complains and will take any ride offered. She works hard. She's just happy to ride and show.
I'm proud of her.
Tomorrow I'll be able to go to the show and watch her finish the division. Keep your fingers crossed.
I just talked on the phone to Jane, who is at a horse show today.
She told me that after today's classes, she is leading the small pony division at this "A" show on Buddy, the pony in this picture. (This photo was taken of her showing him last Fall. Buddy doesn't belong to us, but she gets to show him some. We love him.)
Anyway, this is the best she's ever done at a horse show in a high level division. If she stays in the lead tomorrow, she will have qualified the pony for the USEF National Pony Finals, which is a very big deal.
It's hard being a catch rider (meaning that Jane rides whichever pony someone allows her to ride because we can't really afford our own pony), but Jane makes the most of it. She never complains and will take any ride offered. She works hard. She's just happy to ride and show.
I'm proud of her.
Tomorrow I'll be able to go to the show and watch her finish the division. Keep your fingers crossed.
new knoxville music blog
Thanks to Jeff from THE WESTSIDE DAREDEVILS for turning me on to this cool new blog ALL ABOUT KNOXVILLE'S MUSIC SCENE. It has reviews, shout-outs and criticism written by Nick from Twinkiebots, Emily from The Tenderhooks and Jeff.
Here's MORE ON THE BLOG from Metro Pulse.
This is a site I'll be checking in on regularly. You should too.
Here's MORE ON THE BLOG from Metro Pulse.
This is a site I'll be checking in on regularly. You should too.
baby lust
I'm one of those people who loves getting pregnant, being pregnant and mothering babies & young children. I really do.
My youngest child (I have three) is eight years old now and I'm also divorced. One would think my baby-havin' days are likely behind me and that I might even be happy about that.
But I still feel like there is a baby - maybe even two more babies - in my future. I have no concrete reason to believe this except that I just sort of know it.
My children are at a wonderful place right now. I am enjoying them all tremendously. But again, I just feel like another child is supposed to join the family at some point. And lately, whenever I see a baby or toddler I get that baby lust feeling...
I have friends who say they just knew they were "done" after baby # 2 or whatever, but I've yet to feel that yet...
My youngest child (I have three) is eight years old now and I'm also divorced. One would think my baby-havin' days are likely behind me and that I might even be happy about that.
But I still feel like there is a baby - maybe even two more babies - in my future. I have no concrete reason to believe this except that I just sort of know it.
My children are at a wonderful place right now. I am enjoying them all tremendously. But again, I just feel like another child is supposed to join the family at some point. And lately, whenever I see a baby or toddler I get that baby lust feeling...
I have friends who say they just knew they were "done" after baby # 2 or whatever, but I've yet to feel that yet...
tom cruise scares me
The Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes thing just gets stranger and stranger.
Today he's quoted as saying that everyone who comes into contact with Katie has been GIVEN "SEMINARS" on how to interact with her and the baby to be.
This apparently includes his two older children who will, according to the same article, work in "shifts" to help care for the baby.
Has anyone ever noticed that one never sees photos of Nicole Kidman with the two kids she shares with Tom Cruise? And I know they are being homeschooled by Scientologists at Cruise's L.A. home. I wonder if he harassed her until she finally basically gave up trying to parent her kids...
Today he's quoted as saying that everyone who comes into contact with Katie has been GIVEN "SEMINARS" on how to interact with her and the baby to be.
This apparently includes his two older children who will, according to the same article, work in "shifts" to help care for the baby.
Has anyone ever noticed that one never sees photos of Nicole Kidman with the two kids she shares with Tom Cruise? And I know they are being homeschooled by Scientologists at Cruise's L.A. home. I wonder if he harassed her until she finally basically gave up trying to parent her kids...
baby progressives
My sister in law just told me that my nephew Jones, age 5, and my niece Anna, age 3, were playing together, building something, and every once in a while they would announce "union break!" and sit down and take a breather.
Thursday
thor and the door
This is the bottom of my poor, poor door.
Note my fine typing paper patch job, as well as bloody glass. It was a bad scene.
Note my fine typing paper patch job, as well as bloody glass. It was a bad scene.
kate and cow
My mother sent me this photo of me, at about age 9 or 10. This is me with a Jersey heifer I won in an essay contest sponsored by Duck River Electric Cooperative. I had to write an essay about why I thought I deserved a Jersey calf. And I won. Her name was Bonnie and this is Bonnie winning a trophy at the 4-H Fair. I still have the trophy (note golden cow). I no longer have those wonderful glasses, though I wish I did.
My sister entered the same contest the next year and won her own Ayreshire heifer, whom she named Charlotte.
My sister entered the same contest the next year and won her own Ayreshire heifer, whom she named Charlotte.
Wednesday
new hair
Feeling the changes of springtime in the air, I went at lunchtime and let Carl cut off all my hair. I mean, all of it. It's seriously short. I was going for a sort of Edie-Sedgwick-meets-Mia-Farrow thing.
He did exactly as I asked and it feels AWESOME on my head. So light and nice.
And I think it looks pretty good, but since returning to work, the comments have been primarily along the lines of "Oh. You got your hair cut. Look at that."
This is not promising
He did exactly as I asked and it feels AWESOME on my head. So light and nice.
And I think it looks pretty good, but since returning to work, the comments have been primarily along the lines of "Oh. You got your hair cut. Look at that."
This is not promising
elliot at eight
Eight years old is a great age. I'm not sure I've ever enjoyed Elliot as much as I am right now.
He's a sunny, funny, mischievous, sweet delight at the moment.
He's a sunny, funny, mischievous, sweet delight at the moment.
Tuesday
britney's baby
I hope this isn't true, this story that Britney Spears' BABY FRACTURED HIS SKULL in a fall from his high chair. Yikes!
Mine never fell out of a high chair, but one of them did once eat a poison mushroom from the yard. Another of them stuck a bean so far up his nose we had to go to the ER and the third once got poked in the face - right near his eye - with a burning stick being used to roast marshmallows by his cousin. My point being: who am I to judge anyone else's ability to prevent their kids from doing things like falling out of high chairs?
Mine never fell out of a high chair, but one of them did once eat a poison mushroom from the yard. Another of them stuck a bean so far up his nose we had to go to the ER and the third once got poked in the face - right near his eye - with a burning stick being used to roast marshmallows by his cousin. My point being: who am I to judge anyone else's ability to prevent their kids from doing things like falling out of high chairs?
destroyer
I am dog-sitting my dear friend Jay's wonderful, wonderful dog, Thor.
Thor is a huge pit bull mix. I suspect the mix includes Great Dane.
ANyway, Jay will be back Wednesday and Thor has clearly been missing him.
Last night, I made the mistake of leaving Thor alone for a period of time. I've done this before with absolutely no problem, but this time, Thor decided he did not want to be alone in my house and proceeded to absolutely demolish my vintage, original-to-my-75-year-old-Craftsman-cottage front door. He ate most of the wood and smashed out bunches of glass, smearing blood all over the place when he cut his paw (he's fine).
I think my door may be a loss, which means I will have to buy a reproduction or vintage Craftsman door to replace it which I suspect will cost around a thousand bucks.
I am having an restorer person come look at it today and give his opinion on whether it is salvageable.
This is one of those times when you just have to take a deep breath and say, it's all okay. I can make this right.
It doesn't help that my roof is leaking at the moment and it appears my heat pump (very old) just died...
I do ADORE my little house, though. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Thor is a huge pit bull mix. I suspect the mix includes Great Dane.
ANyway, Jay will be back Wednesday and Thor has clearly been missing him.
Last night, I made the mistake of leaving Thor alone for a period of time. I've done this before with absolutely no problem, but this time, Thor decided he did not want to be alone in my house and proceeded to absolutely demolish my vintage, original-to-my-75-year-old-Craftsman-cottage front door. He ate most of the wood and smashed out bunches of glass, smearing blood all over the place when he cut his paw (he's fine).
I think my door may be a loss, which means I will have to buy a reproduction or vintage Craftsman door to replace it which I suspect will cost around a thousand bucks.
I am having an restorer person come look at it today and give his opinion on whether it is salvageable.
This is one of those times when you just have to take a deep breath and say, it's all okay. I can make this right.
It doesn't help that my roof is leaking at the moment and it appears my heat pump (very old) just died...
I do ADORE my little house, though. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Monday
need new nanny in knoxville
(I love alliteration)
After trying to get by without for the past 12 months, I need to hire a new part-time nanny/mother's helper/au pair person in Knoxville.
Must drive own car.
Must like loud, boisterous, busy household with too many children and dogs.
Good pay. Nice boss.
If you know anyone who might be interested, e-mail me at kagranju@gmail.com
After trying to get by without for the past 12 months, I need to hire a new part-time nanny/mother's helper/au pair person in Knoxville.
Must drive own car.
Must like loud, boisterous, busy household with too many children and dogs.
Good pay. Nice boss.
If you know anyone who might be interested, e-mail me at kagranju@gmail.com
gwyneth's new baby boy is named...
Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin have a new baby boy they've NAMED "MOSES"
My cat is named "Moses."
Congrats to Gwynnie and Chris.
Over and out.
My cat is named "Moses."
Congrats to Gwynnie and Chris.
Over and out.
horse show weekend
Jane and her pony were Children's Pony Reserve Champs at the RMI "A" show in Cleveland this past weekend.
He's for sale, if you are pony shopping...
He's for sale, if you are pony shopping...
how to marry a banker
Hey girls, wanna hook yourself a banker? Payj at Things That Make You Go Hmmm has the 411: SO YOU WANNA BE A BANKER'S GIRLFRIEND
My favorite part?
"Aim high. Like mom used to say: Reach for a banker. You can always settle for a consultant."
More of Flat Stanley's Adventures in Afghanistan
To see all the pix of Flat Stanley in Afghanistan, CLICK HERE
Dear Elliot,
Greetings again from Afghanistan. I hope you enjoyed my last letter. Since then, I went on another expedition with my soldiers and US Special Forces. I took a few pictures and wanted to send them to you.
The night of the patrol, we had to be prepared for any attack, and we took turns pulling guard duty throughout the night. We had heard the base where we were staying might get rocketed. Even though I am a Lieutenant Colonel (the highest ranking Soldier on the patrol), I must share the same burdens as my men. So I stood guard watch from 2230 (10:30 p.m.) until midnight. It was windy and rainy. Thanks to Flat Stanley, nothing happened.
The green photos are of Flat Stanley helping me pull guard duty with my M4 carbine. The green light is what I see through my night vision goggles. These neat gizmos amplify light so you can see in the dark. (Wouldn’t that be neat? You could walk around your house at night and see everything, even though it was pitch dark.)
The next photo is of Flat Stanley manning our biggest machine gun, the “Ma Deuce.” It actually is called the M2 .50 HB MG. That stands for M2 (hence, “Ma Deuce”) .50 (50 caliber, meaning the bullet is 50/100, or one-half inch, in diameter. That is a very big bullet), HB (for heavy barrel), MG (machine gun). This machine gun fires a big bullet that weighs 673 grains (a grain is a unit of measurement for bullets and gunpowder), so we say the .50 caliber is “673 grains of diplomacy.”
The next day, I met some farmers who happen to grow poppies. One told me he knows it is wrong to grow poppy, but he must feed his family. That is a dilemma for any parent, because a child (you, Elliott) are a parent’s most precious possession in the world, and a parent will do anything to care for his or her child. The photo of me with the locals shows that farmer holding the water bottle. The net in his left hand is used to capture birds on the ground (like quail, I suppose). The farmer then raises the birds.
I then climbed a high hill looking for caves where guns and bombs might be hidden. We found no caves, but it was good exercise, especially with my 20+ pounds of body armor and rifle. Attached are some photos from that hill.
The next to last photo is of one of our terps (interpreters), Fawad (pronounced faWAHD). He is a very nice young man and an Olympic athlete. He played on the Afghan Olympic volleyball team. No kidding. The last picture was taken as we were heading home. It just seemed like a neat shot. I hope you like it.
Once again Flat Stanley really enjoyed an adventure in Afghanistan. He’s a good Soldier. I would take him anywhere with me.
Warmest regards,
Bill
Dear Elliot,
Greetings again from Afghanistan. I hope you enjoyed my last letter. Since then, I went on another expedition with my soldiers and US Special Forces. I took a few pictures and wanted to send them to you.
The night of the patrol, we had to be prepared for any attack, and we took turns pulling guard duty throughout the night. We had heard the base where we were staying might get rocketed. Even though I am a Lieutenant Colonel (the highest ranking Soldier on the patrol), I must share the same burdens as my men. So I stood guard watch from 2230 (10:30 p.m.) until midnight. It was windy and rainy. Thanks to Flat Stanley, nothing happened.
The green photos are of Flat Stanley helping me pull guard duty with my M4 carbine. The green light is what I see through my night vision goggles. These neat gizmos amplify light so you can see in the dark. (Wouldn’t that be neat? You could walk around your house at night and see everything, even though it was pitch dark.)
The next photo is of Flat Stanley manning our biggest machine gun, the “Ma Deuce.” It actually is called the M2 .50 HB MG. That stands for M2 (hence, “Ma Deuce”) .50 (50 caliber, meaning the bullet is 50/100, or one-half inch, in diameter. That is a very big bullet), HB (for heavy barrel), MG (machine gun). This machine gun fires a big bullet that weighs 673 grains (a grain is a unit of measurement for bullets and gunpowder), so we say the .50 caliber is “673 grains of diplomacy.”
The next day, I met some farmers who happen to grow poppies. One told me he knows it is wrong to grow poppy, but he must feed his family. That is a dilemma for any parent, because a child (you, Elliott) are a parent’s most precious possession in the world, and a parent will do anything to care for his or her child. The photo of me with the locals shows that farmer holding the water bottle. The net in his left hand is used to capture birds on the ground (like quail, I suppose). The farmer then raises the birds.
I then climbed a high hill looking for caves where guns and bombs might be hidden. We found no caves, but it was good exercise, especially with my 20+ pounds of body armor and rifle. Attached are some photos from that hill.
The next to last photo is of one of our terps (interpreters), Fawad (pronounced faWAHD). He is a very nice young man and an Olympic athlete. He played on the Afghan Olympic volleyball team. No kidding. The last picture was taken as we were heading home. It just seemed like a neat shot. I hope you like it.
Once again Flat Stanley really enjoyed an adventure in Afghanistan. He’s a good Soldier. I would take him anywhere with me.
Warmest regards,
Bill
more progress on the yard makeover
Front yard before. This was taken last July when everything was very green and lush
During. This was taken in March of this year - last month. You can see Steve has ripped out all the 1940s bushes, like holly and azaleas, and has tilled up the lawn. He's started on the brick walkway.:
We are now further (farther?) along with the "during." You can see we have put in a number of plants and mulched on the side that will be a little cottage garden. Also in but hard to see yet are America wisteria, that will climb up the pillars. A little more work has been done on the brick walkway.
Steve K. is the mastermind behind the yard makeover. He's a botanist and is using only native plants. Here he is hard at work.
Steve works while his wife Terri sits on the steps with J. That's Steve and Terri's son Zan hanging on the sidewalk. He helped a lot too
This is a general idea of what I hope the front of the house looks like when all the plans and flowers are grown in.
During. This was taken in March of this year - last month. You can see Steve has ripped out all the 1940s bushes, like holly and azaleas, and has tilled up the lawn. He's started on the brick walkway.:
We are now further (farther?) along with the "during." You can see we have put in a number of plants and mulched on the side that will be a little cottage garden. Also in but hard to see yet are America wisteria, that will climb up the pillars. A little more work has been done on the brick walkway.
Steve K. is the mastermind behind the yard makeover. He's a botanist and is using only native plants. Here he is hard at work.
Steve works while his wife Terri sits on the steps with J. That's Steve and Terri's son Zan hanging on the sidewalk. He helped a lot too
This is a general idea of what I hope the front of the house looks like when all the plans and flowers are grown in.
Sunday
religious right
An interesting article on how the very progressive United Churche of Christ is FIGHTING BACK against right wing Christian extremism.
Thursday
knoxville knightlife
FYI: I am endeavoring to put more of my blogging on Knoxville-area entertainment and music stuff on MY OTHER BLOG, The Pop Culturephile. So look for it there... daily.
racist journalism in tennessee
OK, so Brian Mosely has written yet another INCREDIBLY RACIST COLUMN in my hometown newspaper.
This one is pretty bad, but you really do have to see it in the context of HIS ONGOING, RACIST "COVERAGE" of issues related to Bedford County's Hispanic community.
The man appears to have a vendetta against immigrants (if you doubt this, just check out his PERSONAL BLOG. This is his blog, so he writes everything on it, plus you can get a better idea of his own views when he responds to commenters as "bkm" on the blog. It's scary stuff.)and that's his right, but he shouldn't be able to express it within the safety and supposed objective authority of the county's only daily newspaper.
ADDENDUM: Further perusal of this guy's blog reveals he's SEXIST, AS WELL
This one is pretty bad, but you really do have to see it in the context of HIS ONGOING, RACIST "COVERAGE" of issues related to Bedford County's Hispanic community.
The man appears to have a vendetta against immigrants (if you doubt this, just check out his PERSONAL BLOG. This is his blog, so he writes everything on it, plus you can get a better idea of his own views when he responds to commenters as "bkm" on the blog. It's scary stuff.)and that's his right, but he shouldn't be able to express it within the safety and supposed objective authority of the county's only daily newspaper.
ADDENDUM: Further perusal of this guy's blog reveals he's SEXIST, AS WELL
Wednesday
Flat Stanley in Afghanistan
Like many second graders all over the country, my son Elliot recently sent his handmade "FLAT STANLEY" off to travel around.
His whole class sent them off to various friends and family here and there, in hopes they would get interesting post cards and pictures back to the classroom from their Stanleys' travels.
Elliot's Flat Stanley was mailed to our dear friend Bill, who is currently spending a year in Afghanistan. We miss him terribly.
(THIS IS BILL WITH FLAT STANLEY)
Today, Bill e-mailed Elliot with photos and a letter about Stanley's adventures with the U.S. Army in Afghanistan.
And as Bill notes in his e-mail, Elliot's mama is no fan of the war or guns, but these photos are very interesting and my 8 year old boy, who is very interested in the army and, yes, guns, will love them.
Bill's e-mail to Elliot:
Dear Elliot,
Greetings from Afghanistan. I hope you are doing well. I’m sure you are looking forward to the end of the school year.
You may recall that some time ago you sent me Flat Stanley, dressed smartly in his camouflage uniform, and asked me to take him on adventures in Afghanistan. I was glad to do so.
Just last evening, I returned from a five day expedition with US Special Forces. We drove to many interesting places, talked with villagers and looked for bad guys. I figured Flat Stanley would like to come along, and he agreed. I let him do many things he probably had never done before, and he seemed to have a lot of fun.
Knowing how much your Mom loves guns (just like Aunt Kimi, who REALLY loves guns … just ask her), I thought I would introduce Flat Stanley to some of the weapons we carry on our patrols. The first picture you see is Flat helping man a machine gun, specifically an M240B 7.62mm machine gun sitting atop my up-armored Humvee. He really liked that. He wanted to shoot it, but that might have scared the people around us, so I told him we’d do that later.
Next you will see Flat Stanley on the windshield of my Hummer. He was helping me and my team pull security, watching out for bad guys as the SF and ANA (Afghan National Army) were in a nearby village checking things out. He did a great job. Nobody bothered us, and I’m sure it was because they saw Flat Stanley on guard.
The next pictures are of ol’ Flat checking out my M4 carbine, the rifle I always carry with me on patrol. It fires a 5.56mm bullet and has a 30 round magazine. It’s close to an M16, just with a shorter barrel. Again, Flat really liked checking out my long gun.
The crowning moment of Weapons Day was Flat Stanley’s hand grenade instruction. He took to it like a duck to water. He needed a little help holding it, but you can see him getting ready to throw the frag grenade I carry with me on patrols. He was just practicing; he never threw it, but he was ready if needed.
You may know that Afghanistan grows a lot of poppies, which have beautiful flowers. Unfortunately, the pod’s juice is turned into bad stuff called opium and heroine. The people of Afghanistan are so poor that many feel they must grow poppies to feed their families, since they make more money selling raw opium than growing corn or wheat. We drove through many poppy fields, and Flat Stanley saw Afghanistan’s cash crop on the vine.
The next day, Flat Stanley and I visited an old fortress in the middle of the desert. It was made of mud and hardened in the blazing Afghan sun. Though it surely is centuries old, it still stands today. I am not sure, but it could have been built by Alexander the Great of Greece/Macedonia, who came through this very area on his way to the Hindu Kush mountains. Flat was mightily impressed with the mud walls and battlements, as you can tell by the smile on his face.
Just yesterday we were out in the Afghan desert near Farah Rud, which is sort of a rough neighborhood. Flat Stanley handled himself like a real soldier. Here are some pictures of Flat Stanley, first with me, then with my terp (short for interpreter) John. John speaks Dari, Pashtu, some Urdu and Farsi (akin to Dari) and of course English (very well). We think John actually is an American trapped in an Afghan’s body. He’s a great guy and a great terp. In fact, John was wounded a couple of years ago by an RPG round when he was manning a .50 machine gun for some Special Forces soldiers.
I go on expedition again fairly soon, and I hope Flat Stanley can come with me for more fun and sights. If he does, I’ll take pictures and send them to you.
I hope these pictures (and some others I tossed in) give you an idea of Flat Stanley’s adventures here in Afghanistan. It has been a pleasure showing him around. He would make a great soldier. Thanks for sending him to visit. When he tells me he’s tired of soldiering in Afghanistan, I will carefully send him home to you.
Warmest regards,
Bill
His whole class sent them off to various friends and family here and there, in hopes they would get interesting post cards and pictures back to the classroom from their Stanleys' travels.
Elliot's Flat Stanley was mailed to our dear friend Bill, who is currently spending a year in Afghanistan. We miss him terribly.
(THIS IS BILL WITH FLAT STANLEY)
Today, Bill e-mailed Elliot with photos and a letter about Stanley's adventures with the U.S. Army in Afghanistan.
And as Bill notes in his e-mail, Elliot's mama is no fan of the war or guns, but these photos are very interesting and my 8 year old boy, who is very interested in the army and, yes, guns, will love them.
Bill's e-mail to Elliot:
Dear Elliot,
Greetings from Afghanistan. I hope you are doing well. I’m sure you are looking forward to the end of the school year.
You may recall that some time ago you sent me Flat Stanley, dressed smartly in his camouflage uniform, and asked me to take him on adventures in Afghanistan. I was glad to do so.
Just last evening, I returned from a five day expedition with US Special Forces. We drove to many interesting places, talked with villagers and looked for bad guys. I figured Flat Stanley would like to come along, and he agreed. I let him do many things he probably had never done before, and he seemed to have a lot of fun.
Knowing how much your Mom loves guns (just like Aunt Kimi, who REALLY loves guns … just ask her), I thought I would introduce Flat Stanley to some of the weapons we carry on our patrols. The first picture you see is Flat helping man a machine gun, specifically an M240B 7.62mm machine gun sitting atop my up-armored Humvee. He really liked that. He wanted to shoot it, but that might have scared the people around us, so I told him we’d do that later.
Next you will see Flat Stanley on the windshield of my Hummer. He was helping me and my team pull security, watching out for bad guys as the SF and ANA (Afghan National Army) were in a nearby village checking things out. He did a great job. Nobody bothered us, and I’m sure it was because they saw Flat Stanley on guard.
The next pictures are of ol’ Flat checking out my M4 carbine, the rifle I always carry with me on patrol. It fires a 5.56mm bullet and has a 30 round magazine. It’s close to an M16, just with a shorter barrel. Again, Flat really liked checking out my long gun.
The crowning moment of Weapons Day was Flat Stanley’s hand grenade instruction. He took to it like a duck to water. He needed a little help holding it, but you can see him getting ready to throw the frag grenade I carry with me on patrols. He was just practicing; he never threw it, but he was ready if needed.
You may know that Afghanistan grows a lot of poppies, which have beautiful flowers. Unfortunately, the pod’s juice is turned into bad stuff called opium and heroine. The people of Afghanistan are so poor that many feel they must grow poppies to feed their families, since they make more money selling raw opium than growing corn or wheat. We drove through many poppy fields, and Flat Stanley saw Afghanistan’s cash crop on the vine.
The next day, Flat Stanley and I visited an old fortress in the middle of the desert. It was made of mud and hardened in the blazing Afghan sun. Though it surely is centuries old, it still stands today. I am not sure, but it could have been built by Alexander the Great of Greece/Macedonia, who came through this very area on his way to the Hindu Kush mountains. Flat was mightily impressed with the mud walls and battlements, as you can tell by the smile on his face.
Just yesterday we were out in the Afghan desert near Farah Rud, which is sort of a rough neighborhood. Flat Stanley handled himself like a real soldier. Here are some pictures of Flat Stanley, first with me, then with my terp (short for interpreter) John. John speaks Dari, Pashtu, some Urdu and Farsi (akin to Dari) and of course English (very well). We think John actually is an American trapped in an Afghan’s body. He’s a great guy and a great terp. In fact, John was wounded a couple of years ago by an RPG round when he was manning a .50 machine gun for some Special Forces soldiers.
I go on expedition again fairly soon, and I hope Flat Stanley can come with me for more fun and sights. If he does, I’ll take pictures and send them to you.
I hope these pictures (and some others I tossed in) give you an idea of Flat Stanley’s adventures here in Afghanistan. It has been a pleasure showing him around. He would make a great soldier. Thanks for sending him to visit. When he tells me he’s tired of soldiering in Afghanistan, I will carefully send him home to you.
Warmest regards,
Bill
scientology and silent birth
Perhaps you've heard something or a lot about how Scientology encourages its female adherents to have "silent births." Much has been made in the press about how Katie Holmes, Tom Cruise's knocked up, common law fembot will be required by Cruise's religion to keep her mouth shut whist birthing.
Well, the Church of Scientology issued a press release yesterday intending to SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT on what this silent birth thing is REALLY all about. I guess they meant for their statement to make people feel better about the whole wacky idea.
Well, they failed.
The statement reads in part:
"Does this mean that a mother cannot scream or moan at all?
Of course they can make noises — the point of silent birth is NO WORDS. This is a principle of Dianetics and to fully understand why, read the book Dianetics the Modern Science of Mental Health, by L. Ron Hubbard."
No WORDS? Women cannot SPEAK while giving birth? This is nutso.
In addition to the normal communication that goes on between mother and baby's father during childbirth, a woman needs to be able to tell her midwifeor doctor what she's feeling. And most women I know who have given birth also tend to offer up a few "Holy mother of GOD, this hurts!!!" sorts of statements while having a baby.
The Scientologists' official statement also fails to address another of their weirder birthing tenets, which is that the mother should be separated from her baby following birth. This, of course, is not only cruel and bizarre, but downright dangerous. Human mothers and babies are designed to remain in close, skin to skin contact almost constantly in the days and weeks following birth.
Another weird SCientology thing is L. Ron Hubbard's claim that babies who are not breastfed should be fed not FDA-approved infant formula, but a concoction of his own devising that he claims to have picked up during his time travels while HANGING OUT WITH THE ROMANS. (I swear it says this. Click the link and read it.)
Poor Katie Holmes.
Well, the Church of Scientology issued a press release yesterday intending to SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT on what this silent birth thing is REALLY all about. I guess they meant for their statement to make people feel better about the whole wacky idea.
Well, they failed.
The statement reads in part:
"Does this mean that a mother cannot scream or moan at all?
Of course they can make noises — the point of silent birth is NO WORDS. This is a principle of Dianetics and to fully understand why, read the book Dianetics the Modern Science of Mental Health, by L. Ron Hubbard."
No WORDS? Women cannot SPEAK while giving birth? This is nutso.
In addition to the normal communication that goes on between mother and baby's father during childbirth, a woman needs to be able to tell her midwifeor doctor what she's feeling. And most women I know who have given birth also tend to offer up a few "Holy mother of GOD, this hurts!!!" sorts of statements while having a baby.
The Scientologists' official statement also fails to address another of their weirder birthing tenets, which is that the mother should be separated from her baby following birth. This, of course, is not only cruel and bizarre, but downright dangerous. Human mothers and babies are designed to remain in close, skin to skin contact almost constantly in the days and weeks following birth.
Another weird SCientology thing is L. Ron Hubbard's claim that babies who are not breastfed should be fed not FDA-approved infant formula, but a concoction of his own devising that he claims to have picked up during his time travels while HANGING OUT WITH THE ROMANS. (I swear it says this. Click the link and read it.)
Poor Katie Holmes.
Tuesday
the lord's name
Last night my 14 year old son Henry & I were chatting about why it bothers some people to hear "Oh my God."
So we got into the whole not-taking-the-Lord's-name-in-vain thing (unless it's the Dark Lord, of course ;-) ) & Henry told me that in his opinion, saying "Oh my God" doesn't constitute taking the Lord's name in vain. Instead, he believes that this is when someone does something evil, like fight a war or beat a child or oppress a certain class of human being, and it's done in the name of God. That says my very wise teenage boy, is taking the Lord's name in vain.
So we got into the whole not-taking-the-Lord's-name-in-vain thing (unless it's the Dark Lord, of course ;-) ) & Henry told me that in his opinion, saying "Oh my God" doesn't constitute taking the Lord's name in vain. Instead, he believes that this is when someone does something evil, like fight a war or beat a child or oppress a certain class of human being, and it's done in the name of God. That says my very wise teenage boy, is taking the Lord's name in vain.
Monday
thursday night fever
Today I discovered an amusing entertainment blog based in Nashville called THURSDAY NIGHT FEVER
I'm perusing the archives and so far have discovered this gem: PAUL ANKA GOES POSTAL.
You'll enjoy it. Trust me.
persecution of midwives
Looks like yet another American midwife has become THE SUBJECT OF A WITCH HUNT
I wrote THIS ARTICLE about the widespread harassment of midwives in this country.
It's truly sad.
I wrote THIS ARTICLE about the widespread harassment of midwives in this country.
It's truly sad.
Saturday
love
Not long ago, someone I care about a lot told me he has not been in love since 1996 or so (he's 37 and has never been married). This struck me as highly unusual.
I started thinking about what it means to say you are in love, romantically speaking, as opposed to just liking somebody a lot. What does it mean to be in love? How do you know you are actually in love? How long does it/should it take to know that you love someone? What about love at first sight? Is it possible? Can you love more than one person (again, romantically) at the same time?
What are your thoughts? Comment below.
I started thinking about what it means to say you are in love, romantically speaking, as opposed to just liking somebody a lot. What does it mean to be in love? How do you know you are actually in love? How long does it/should it take to know that you love someone? What about love at first sight? Is it possible? Can you love more than one person (again, romantically) at the same time?
What are your thoughts? Comment below.
work
My workload has gotten HUGE recently. The Tennessee Supreme Court decision last week affirming term limits for elected county officials means that I have been busy, busy, busy covering that this week. We are doing a special live version of the weekly public affairs show I produce (if you don't know, I am a TV/Online producer at an NBC affiliate) on Sunday to talk about this story, since the decision means most of our local government may have just become ineligible to serve. I have also had some training I have had to do.
I've also been getting tons of bread and butter (as opposed to super creative ) freelance work. I've been writing a lot for HGTV.com. (Here's an HGTV article I wrote recently on quartz countertops.) And I also just got a nice assignment doing some consumer product/tech writing for a communications company.
This was the first assignment I had gotten from these folks, so I really wanted to make a good impression. They offered me two projects, we'll call them project #1 and project #2. I told them I could do project #1 but didn't have time for project #2, so I suggested a good writer/editor I know to take on project #2.
So I got to work pounding out project #1 and turned it in yesterday. Unfortunately, however, our wires had gotten crossed. They thought I was doing project #2, not project #1. I have to say that's the first time I've met a freelance deadline....but turned in the WRONG PIECE OF WORK.
I felt really stupid.
They were very nice about it, so now I will do project #2 by Monday. I hope they dont think I am so dense that they never hire me again. But I'd say that's a strong possibility.
I've also been getting tons of bread and butter (as opposed to super creative ) freelance work. I've been writing a lot for HGTV.com. (Here's an HGTV article I wrote recently on quartz countertops.) And I also just got a nice assignment doing some consumer product/tech writing for a communications company.
This was the first assignment I had gotten from these folks, so I really wanted to make a good impression. They offered me two projects, we'll call them project #1 and project #2. I told them I could do project #1 but didn't have time for project #2, so I suggested a good writer/editor I know to take on project #2.
So I got to work pounding out project #1 and turned it in yesterday. Unfortunately, however, our wires had gotten crossed. They thought I was doing project #2, not project #1. I have to say that's the first time I've met a freelance deadline....but turned in the WRONG PIECE OF WORK.
I felt really stupid.
They were very nice about it, so now I will do project #2 by Monday. I hope they dont think I am so dense that they never hire me again. But I'd say that's a strong possibility.
unitarian jihad
I am not sure where this originally appeared, but I have received it from several folks in my e-mail today. Will try to find provenance and post URL for attribution, but in the meantime, enjoy!
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
- Jon Carroll
San Francisco Chronicle
Friday, April 8, 2005
The following is the first communique from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad. It was sent to me at The Chronicle via an anonymous spam remailer. I have no idea whether other news organizations have received this communique, and, if so, why they have not chosen to print it. Perhaps they fear starting a panic. I feel strongly that the truth, no matter how alarming, trivial or disgusting, must always be told. I am pleased to report that the words below are at least not disgusting:
Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States. We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary.
Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States! Too long has your attention been waylaid by the bright baubles of extremist thought. Too long have fundamentalist yahoos of all religions (except Buddhism -- 14-5 vote, no abstentions, fundamentalism subcommittee) made your head hurt. Too long have you been buffeted by angry people who think that God talks to them. You have a right to your moderation! You have the power to be calm! We will use the IED of truth to explode the SUV of dogmatic expression!
People of the United States, why is everyone yelling at you??? Whatever happened to ... you know, everything? Why is the news dominated by nutballs saying that the Ten Commandments have to be tattooed inside the eyelids of every American, or that Allah has told them to kill Americans in order to rid the world of Satan, or that Yahweh has instructed them to go live wherever they feel like, or that Shiva thinks bombing mosques is a great idea? Sister Immaculate Dagger of Peace notes for the record that we mean no disrespect to Jews, Muslims, Christians or Hindus. Referred back to the committee of the whole for further discussion.
We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes.
Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for "balance" by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues.
We are Unitarian Jihad. We will appear in public places and require people to shake hands with each other. (Sister Hand Grenade of Love suggested that we institute a terror regime of mandatory hugging, but her motion was not formally introduced because of lack of a quorum.) We will require all lobbyists, spokesmen and campaign managers to dress like trout in public. Televangelists will be forced to take jobs as Xerox repair specialists. Demagogues of all stripes will be required to read Proust out loud in prisons.
We are Unitarian Jihad, and our motto is: "Sincerity is not enough." We have heard from enough sincere people to last a lifetime already. Just because you believe it's true doesn't make it true. Just because your motives are pure doesn't mean you are not doing harm. Get a dog, or comfort someone in a nursing home, or just feed the birds in the park. Play basketball. Lighten up. The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone.
Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he's pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee.
People of the United States! We are Unitarian Jihad! We can strike without warning. Pockets of reasonableness and harmony will appear as if from nowhere! Nice people will run the government again! There will be coffee and cookies in the Gandhi Room after the revolution.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
- Jon Carroll
San Francisco Chronicle
Friday, April 8, 2005
The following is the first communique from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad. It was sent to me at The Chronicle via an anonymous spam remailer. I have no idea whether other news organizations have received this communique, and, if so, why they have not chosen to print it. Perhaps they fear starting a panic. I feel strongly that the truth, no matter how alarming, trivial or disgusting, must always be told. I am pleased to report that the words below are at least not disgusting:
Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States. We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary.
Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States! Too long has your attention been waylaid by the bright baubles of extremist thought. Too long have fundamentalist yahoos of all religions (except Buddhism -- 14-5 vote, no abstentions, fundamentalism subcommittee) made your head hurt. Too long have you been buffeted by angry people who think that God talks to them. You have a right to your moderation! You have the power to be calm! We will use the IED of truth to explode the SUV of dogmatic expression!
People of the United States, why is everyone yelling at you??? Whatever happened to ... you know, everything? Why is the news dominated by nutballs saying that the Ten Commandments have to be tattooed inside the eyelids of every American, or that Allah has told them to kill Americans in order to rid the world of Satan, or that Yahweh has instructed them to go live wherever they feel like, or that Shiva thinks bombing mosques is a great idea? Sister Immaculate Dagger of Peace notes for the record that we mean no disrespect to Jews, Muslims, Christians or Hindus. Referred back to the committee of the whole for further discussion.
We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes.
Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for "balance" by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues.
We are Unitarian Jihad. We will appear in public places and require people to shake hands with each other. (Sister Hand Grenade of Love suggested that we institute a terror regime of mandatory hugging, but her motion was not formally introduced because of lack of a quorum.) We will require all lobbyists, spokesmen and campaign managers to dress like trout in public. Televangelists will be forced to take jobs as Xerox repair specialists. Demagogues of all stripes will be required to read Proust out loud in prisons.
We are Unitarian Jihad, and our motto is: "Sincerity is not enough." We have heard from enough sincere people to last a lifetime already. Just because you believe it's true doesn't make it true. Just because your motives are pure doesn't mean you are not doing harm. Get a dog, or comfort someone in a nursing home, or just feed the birds in the park. Play basketball. Lighten up. The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone.
Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he's pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee.
People of the United States! We are Unitarian Jihad! We can strike without warning. Pockets of reasonableness and harmony will appear as if from nowhere! Nice people will run the government again! There will be coffee and cookies in the Gandhi Room after the revolution.
sleep training
I really enjoy reading the blog Dooce.com. And I really, really try not to sound judgmental when I discuss other people's parenting. I swear. I really do.
But gee whiz, I surely was bothered reading THIS POST at Dooce.com today in which the author describes "sleep training" her infant.
She writes that on the night they laid down the law about nightwakings, the baby "screamed and screamed" for hours. And that the parents decided the baby - an infant - would have to go six hours each night without nursing OR sucking on a pacifier.
It "worked." The baby is now a toddler who sleeps 14 hours per 24 hour period.
The thing is, there are lots of ways you could theoretically "train" an infant or child to refrain from behaviors that are inconvenient for parents to deal with. Hell, sometimes I feel like putting duct tape over my teenage son's mouth because he's driving me nuts with his arguing. It might serve to shut him up, but that doesn't make it a good idea.
My children are 8, 10 and 14 years old now and although I remember being quite exhausted at various times when I had three babies/very young kids in the house, I also remember those quiet night nursings so, so fondly. I know it's unbelievably trite to say, but those of you with babies will not BELIEVE how quickly that stage is over.
I can't speak to how anyone else SHOULD do it, but I can tell you that I do not regret one moment spent soothing my babes back to sleep in a quiet household, with the moon shining in through the window...
It's a lovely, lovely time of mothering.
But gee whiz, I surely was bothered reading THIS POST at Dooce.com today in which the author describes "sleep training" her infant.
She writes that on the night they laid down the law about nightwakings, the baby "screamed and screamed" for hours. And that the parents decided the baby - an infant - would have to go six hours each night without nursing OR sucking on a pacifier.
It "worked." The baby is now a toddler who sleeps 14 hours per 24 hour period.
The thing is, there are lots of ways you could theoretically "train" an infant or child to refrain from behaviors that are inconvenient for parents to deal with. Hell, sometimes I feel like putting duct tape over my teenage son's mouth because he's driving me nuts with his arguing. It might serve to shut him up, but that doesn't make it a good idea.
My children are 8, 10 and 14 years old now and although I remember being quite exhausted at various times when I had three babies/very young kids in the house, I also remember those quiet night nursings so, so fondly. I know it's unbelievably trite to say, but those of you with babies will not BELIEVE how quickly that stage is over.
I can't speak to how anyone else SHOULD do it, but I can tell you that I do not regret one moment spent soothing my babes back to sleep in a quiet household, with the moon shining in through the window...
It's a lovely, lovely time of mothering.
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